Whispers of the Fallen
by ReaperScion
Summary: The Capua SS-1, an Alliance vessel on a covert mission, is recalled to fight the Reapers for the final time. As they march to their deaths, an unknown factor violently forces them into a completely different situation. For the crew of the Galactica, the disappearance of Kara Thrace strikes them as a cruel joke as they try to deal with the consequences. Even dead gods can dream...
1. Prologue

_Last Days of the Reaper War, on approach to mass relay to Sol System_

They were running late. Usually, delays could be tolerated, but not this time. This time, it was different. A shitstorm of unprecedented scale was going down in the Sol System, the birthplace of humanity, and they were late. Nearly all that remained of the navies of each species in the Milky Way galaxy were gathered at Earth, fighting the bulk of the Reaper invasion fleet. Every ship in the Alliance was expected to be there, the Specialised Scout Cruiser Capua was no exception.

* * *

_Dawn of the Reaper War_

The brutal Reaper attack on Earth caught everyone off guard. The Capua, being stationed at Jump Zero was badly damaged in a skirmish with Reaper vanguard near the station, and required a full retrofit session in port to be serviceable again. Frankly, it was a miracle she survived the encounter in the first place. The Reapers had steamed through Jump Zero and its defences, intent on taking Earth ASAP. They didn't really bother finishing off a ship that was dead in the water. Its crew would likely die anyway if life support was compromised, or failing that, the Reapers would eventually do a full sweep of the system anyway.

But, thankfully for the Capua, the utter failure of its systems was due to an immense power surge following an impact that had de-stabilised the eezo core. A few minutes later, the core stabilised again, and the helm managed to guide the broken ship to the Charon relay and jump. Despite the massive hull breaches and crippled weapons, the Capua crawled along without interruption until it met a mineral survey ship in the largely uncharted system it jumped to. The ship was evidently out of touch with current events, having spent too long shooting probes at barren rocks looking for palladium and whatnot. But seeing a chomped up Alliance ship was a clear indicator that something was wrong, and they immediately went in search of help once the surviving crew of the Capua was recovered.

As the Reaper invasion of human territory was just beginning, the Alliance still had chance to recover the Capua without being spotted by Reaper forces. The recovery ships immediately took it to an auxiliary shipyard for refit on Hackett's orders, Arcturus being destroyed. The former XO of the ship, Lieutenant Commander Constanza, was bumped up to Captain and given command of the rebuilt Capua, the previous CO of the ship having perished in the skirmish along with half the crew. Hackett was confident in the young officer's abilities, saying something about young men and women being the future of the human race, and that more responsibility would rest on their shoulders than ever before. Constanza certainly felt the pressure. The current circumstances, his command, his new mission, the new faces onboard the ship, and the tragic fate of the people the new crew were replacing was enough to make him give up. But no, he would not allow himself. The Reapers could go fuck themselves. Constanza would carry out his mission and ensure the survival of his species. Giving up on life before that was accomplished would only help the invaders.

The SSV Capua was much different when Constanza laid eyes on it. So different, infact, that a new designation was created especially for it. The Cruiser SSV Capua Specialised Scout-1, or SSV Capua SS-1, was being given the unique mission of going on a long-term voyage into uncharted space with minimal relay cover in search of a new garden world for humanity to flee to. The idea was to create a human Ilos of sorts, somewhere they could hide in secret from the Reapers and persevere. For this to be achieved, the Capua was given the best prototype tech the Alliance could get its hands on. Unfortunately, this did not include a stealth system or a Thanix Cannon. Or a war room for that matter. The ship wasn't being turned into the cruiser variant of the SSV Normandy. Space was extremely limited on the ship now. The spinal mass accelerator, standard on any ship, was replaced with a compact version which fired a slightly different type of projectile, allowing for more storage space. The ship's missile/torpedo banks were replaced with prototype ion cannons, which took a while to heat up between shots, but usually crippled the shields of opposing vessels, allowing the main gun to breach the hull. Apart from occasional servicing, the ion cannons could keep going by themselves as long as the drive core provided power. They required no ammunition, which greatly conserved space. Indeed, many non-essential areas were converted into storage spaces, including the gap between the ship's armor plating and the actual hull itself. A large portion of the hangar bay was converted into a manufacturing plant, which could churn out all the necessary components to keep the ship and its crew going for decades.

The Triton fighter compliment was replaced with only 6 new prototype fighters. They were much larger and boasted many more systems than the Tritons. For one, the new fighter carried a significantly larger eezo core, allowing it to achieve FTL, similar to Kodiak shuttles, as well as increasing general power availability for all systems. The shape and electronics suite of the craft allowed it to evade all but the most meticulous detection systems. Likewise, the electronics suite encompassed the most advanced cyberwarfare VIs and sensors the Alliance could slap on. As for the weapons system, it was definitely putting the Tritons in the dust. Whereas Tritons had basic chain guns, anti-fighter missiles and anti-shield torpedoes, the prototypes had a chain gun based on geth pulse weaponry, able to churn out many more rounds per minute than the standard guns. The anti-fighter missiles were miniaturised into small warheads that would release a cloud of high-explosive pellets when optimum detonation proximity was reached. The pellets would overload the shields with sheer numbers and then shred the enemy craft to pieces. Due to the diminutive size of the new missiles, a much larger supply could be carried. The anti-shield torpedoes were replaced with the deadly Javelin torpedoes, which differed from conventional torpedoes due to the fact that they contained a dark energy payload. When two were detonated in sync, the Javelins would produce mini-singularities, similar to biotic singularities, which would generally warp the shield and rend armor and possible the hull underneath to tatters. This was most certainly a significant change from regular torpedoes, which worked by increasing the mass, leading to a severe drain of the shield as it repelled a huge mass. Unfortunately, the torpedoes were large and quite vulnerable to fire from pursuing craft. For this reason, each prototype carried only one pair of torpedoes, tucked safely away inside a protective shell of armor in the belly of the craft. When the time came, the torpedoes would exit a launch tube just underneath the nose. Finally, unlike the Triton, the prototype came with several air to ground missile systems. The idea behind the concept was that the craft could fulfil the role of interceptor, scout, anti-ship fighter and planetary support vessel, all at the same time.

The ship's M-35 Mako APCs were replaced by the Adaptive Combat Planetary Vehicle (ACPV), another prototype. The ACPV's low lying appearance somewhat resembled the legendary DeLorean vehicle of the 20th century, but of course, the ACPV was nothing like its ancient counterpart in terms of everything else. The prototype was wide and quite heavily armored in the front. Above the spot of the passenger seat, there was a heavy mg, based on the N7 Typhoon. The gunner could either let the computer operate it automatically, or take manual control through the computer itself, or of course, in case the eezo core was deactivated, the gunner could always pop the hatch and use the mg literally by hand. However, the two most distinguishing features of the ACPV was its ability to switch between hover and wheel mode, and to swap out its rear troop carrying compartment for a variety of different modules. These included such things as an AA flak cannon, an AT mass accelerator, light artillery, or indeed a field hospital. The hover/wheel modes were actually quite necessary as the ACPV wouldn't be able to keep stable enough during hover for effective artillery barrages, etc. Also, wheeled mode consumed less reactor power, so more of it could be used to increase shield strength.

The Kodiak shuttles on the ship remained largely unaltered, only receiving minor weapon upgrades and a new paint job.

The new paint was fully black coat with a white stripe, as opposed to standard Alliance blue/white combinations. It was actually applied to everything, including uniforms and the ship itself. The idea was to make the ship look more like an independent contractor than an Alliance vessel. Admiral Hackett didn't want anyone, especially the Reapers and their agents, to notice an Alliance vessel snooping around uncharted space. It would draw unwanted attention to the efforts of finding a hiding place from the Reapers. However, in theory, the independent contractor look would hopefully help make the onlooker think that a merc/pirate vessel was simply out on a raid trying to acquire helpless refugees' belongings. Indeed, the need for secrecy was so great, that Admiral Hackett would purge every single Alliance database of the existence of the ship and everyone on board. Communication would be kept to a minimum, with only critical updates being transmitted via the secure QEC.

That left one more thing. Constanza and the rest of the crew were extremely uncomfortable with it – an AI. The thing was housed in a body rather than in a server like Normandy's EDI. The body was actually a salvaged Geth whose original software was completely purged and replaced with Alliance code. The body was given several upgrades, including a larger storage capacity to be able to cope with the sophisticated Alliance creation as opposed to a handful of Geth programs. However, the AI was never actually finished. The team of scientists working on it had run across an unexpected complication and had no time to figure it out. The Reapers were spreading out of the Sol system and the entire shipyard was being evacuated, the ships and personnel departing to safer systems. So the AI was simply left sitting in a storage compartment on the SSV Capua as it departed for its mission. The scientists said the AI would actually activate properly, but that its behaviour would be unpredictable. Constanza decided not to bother with the risk unless its presence was absolutely necessary.

* * *

Unfortunately, as the months dragged by, the crew of the Capua had no luck achieving their objective. Each day looped in and out in a completely predictable fashion. The ship would come into a system, do a scan and maybe launch probes onto anything of interest. The most promising planet they found was a chunk of ice, the rest were barren rocks or simply gas planets. Even the moons yielded nothing worthy of note. Admiral Hackett looked more disappointed with every passing report Captain Constanza sent him, and it was obvious the war wasn't going well for anyone. The iron-willed Admiral looked progressively more tired and deflated, although he did his best to hide it. Finally, Hackett informed Constanza of the upcoming battle for Earth, where Commander Shepard would hopefully get the opportunity to deploy the Crucible weapon.

The crew was happy to find out they would be attending. The bleak nature of their mission had driven nearly everyone to their coping limit, and a chance for action was something they were eager to take, even if the odds weren't stacked in their favour. Many had already given up on hope for the survival of humanity, and going down fighting and possibly killing some Reapers was, in their opinion, the best thing they could do right now. Constanza wasn't sure exactly what he felt. On one hand, he was fed up with the pointless assignment, and on the other, he didn't want to experience the same thing again. If he survived the destruction of his ship a second time, he knew he'd lose his mind for good.

The timing of the battle put the Capua on a very tight schedule, especially if they were going to stop to pick up a squad of Cerberus defectors along the way, along with their shuttle and two escort fighters. Constanza didn't have a clue how he'd make space for extra vehicles on the hangar deck, never mind how everyone would react to the Cerberus troops, even if they were defectors. Most Alliance soldiers had a serious dislike towards their Cerberus counterparts, for obvious reasons. Time and time again, Cerberus soiled the image of humanity and killed many innocent humans and aliens alike trying to promote their interests. To make things worse, they were puppets of the Reapers now, and the crew was expected to work with them. Of course, everyone realised the defectors defected for that very purpose – to oppose the Reapers, but that didn't make thing any easier.

Picking them up caused a significant delay for the Capua, even longer than predicted. The better part of the hangar bay was completely rearranged to make room for the Cerberus craft. Constanza was desperately hoping they wouldn't jump into a graveyard, littered with allied wrecks.

* * *

_Approaching the relay to Charon_

"Finally! Captain, we'll be at the relay in 7 minutes!"

That was the helmsman, Flight Lieutenant Shane Atkins.

"Understood, you heard Mr. Atkins gunnery! Prep the ion cannons and check that the mass accelerator is good to go, we're going in weapons hot."

"Aye aye Captain, readying weapons systems!"

"CAG, get your birds ready to go, you'll be deploying as soon as we're clear of the relay and any initial hazards. Make sure the Cerby pilots know what they're doing."

A reply echoed back in Captain Constanza's earpiece.

"Birds are prepp'd an' ready, Cap'n. An' Cerby seems t' know what they're doin' sir. I'll go give 'em a clout 'pon the ear to jog the ol' memory in case anyone's forgott'n."

Constanza shook his head. The Commander of the Air Group (CAG), 1st Lieutenant Donald Barksdale was an odd fellow, reminded him more of his grandfather than anyone else, sitting around smoking his pipe and telling stories. His underlings called him Donald Duck, though never to his face. The man had a serious dislike of ducks.

"XO, get your marines ready. Load up the shuttles and get ready for a bumpy ride. Relay the same orders to the Cerberus commander, she's giving a speech to her troops or something."

"Affirmative."

Constanza's XO was an N7, Lieutenant Commander Omar O'Neill. They had a mutual dislike of each other. Constanza was a pilot prior to being given a position on the bridge, which immediately made him a bus driver in the eyes of the marine, despite the fact he almost exclusively flew fighter/bombers. This, in turn, made Constanza perceive his XO as an arrogant prick who yet had to prove himself as a Commander. Seeing as all records of personnel onboard the Capua were deleted, Constanza never really got the chance to review O'Neill's file. He was placed under Constanza's command more or less in the final days of the Capua's time in port. But thankfully, the XO never voiced his dislikes around the crew. He'd carry out his orders, nothing more, nothing less.

Everyone was fidgeting in their seats from anticipation as they were coming within relay range. Constanza felt it himself too, and thought he should say something to the crew.

"Alright everyone," he made sure to patch it through on all speakers, "I'm not gonna give any long winded speech like Admiral Hackett probably did to the fleet. Just wanted to say good luck and good hunting. I expect to find each and every one of you reporting for drinks at whatever bar we find once we kick the Reapers off our planet!"

The bridge staff cheered, as well as mostly everyone else on the ship. But then a look of worry overcame the pilot, Flight Lt. Atkins.

"Something the matter Lt.? You look like you've seen a ghost, and we haven't even started fighting the Reaper scum yet."

"Uh… not really sure how to describe it sir, but the relay is giving off strange readings. They don't match anything we've ever recorded about the relays."

"Can we still use it to reach Charon?"

"Well the anomalies are increasing the longer we wait sir, just look how the rings are picking up speed," he brought up a scan for the Captain to see, who was hovering over his chair at this point, "If we're gonna do this, we'd better do it, like, right now sir."

"Uh alright Atkins, engage the protocols and take us through," he turned around to address the other bridge staff, "I want a full report once we clear the Charon relay, understood? Serviceman, I want you to contact Operations Chief Gibbs in engineering and tell him to do the same. Battlestations everyone!"

The staff nodded their affirmatives and the Serviceman began calling the Chief on his omni-tool. Constanza sighed and positioned himself on the command stand above the tactical display. He looked at the readout to see that the approach to the relay was fully calculated and the jump had been initiated.

Something went very very wrong however, as the tendril of dark energy that usually engulfed passing ships and catapulted them safely to the destination, turned into a violent current that shook the ship like a rattle. Nobody had the slightest chance to register what was happening before they all passed out.

* * *

_Gas Giant, Unknown System_

The SSV Capua SS-1 emerged in the atmosphere of a gas giant, and the VI immediately took over the helm to bring it into a stable orbit. It was quite close cut, because if the ship descended only a little bit deeper, the pressure would be enough to cripple the vessel. A certain Major Leland "Apollo" Adama watched from the cockpit of his Viper fighter as in front of him the Viper of his friend, and possibly more, Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, seemingly exploded, and was instantly replaced by a black ship with a white stripe running across it. The monstrosity, almost the same size as the Battlestar Galactica, rapidly accelerated into orbit. He thought Kara'd finally lost it, chasing after Cylon ghosts, seemingly on a death wish – and then something even crazier happened.

He barely noticed his father, Admiral William Adama, screaming in his earpiece to report the situation. The only one thought was going through his head at that moment. Whatever was on that ship had better be worth Starbuck's sacrifice.

* * *

_Sol System, Earth Orbit_

Nobody noticed the tiny Viper MKII appearing seemingly out of nowhere in orbit of Earth. Death was all around, whatever ships were left in the allied fleet were scattered haphazardly, with wreckage everywhere. The Reapers too, had taken many losses. However, one by one they seemingly stopped moving with any sort of purpose. A continuous beam of light was streaming from the centre of the unfolded Citadel, lancing into the distance towards Charon. Kara Thrace however, paid all the happenings no mind. She was transfixed by the sight of the blue/green planet below her. There were several red splotches here and there on the continents, but at that moment she couldn't comprehend what they were, or perhaps didn't want to. The planet had frozen her in place, and she was completely oblivious to everything other than the fact that she'd arrived, finally. She reached Earth. Nobody noticed her presence, except one. One that was infinitely her greater, and perhaps infinitely more desperate.

* * *

**A/N:** _I hope you've liked this introduction to "Whispers of the Fallen." Been a while since I'd written anything, though I do plan on starting up with AIE soon hopefully, for those of you who may have that story followed. The next chapter of WotF is being written up right now, and should be up in 1-2 days. It'll certainly be more action filled than this mostly descriptive prologue. _

_Please rate and review, constructive critisism and other ideas are appreciated!_

_I do not own BSG or ME._


	2. Boarding Action

_Gas Giant, Unknown System_

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica _

Admiral Adama, normally calm and collected, was on the verge of panic. His best pilot, Starbuck, had flown down into the atmosphere of the gas giant the Galactica and her fleet was currently orbiting chasing ghosts, figments of her imagination. His son Lee followed after her, attempting to convince her to give up the chase at the extremely dangerous altitude. DRADIS scans showed nothing except Vipers, the alleged Cylon Heavy Raider was not there during both instances of Kara's crazy chase. But now, something big had appeared on DRADIS. It was almost the size of Galactica, and was rapidly accelerating out of the gas giant's crushing atmosphere. What really worried him, was that neither Starbuck nor Lee were responding at this point.

"Lee, do you have her in sight? Do you see her?!" he screamed into the comm. The reply didn't come until what seemed like hours after, but in reality was only a few seconds.

Finally, his son responded in a whisper, "Negative. She… she went in… she went in."

"We're sending in the search and rescue birds right now, we'll find her."

"No dad, it's no use! Her ship's in pieces… her ship's in pieces… her ship, is lost. Disintegrated right when this thing jumped in…"

Admiral Adama's face scrunched up and tears welled in his eyes. "Get back here Lee. Hail the unknown vessel Mr. Gaeta… See if they feel like giving us an explanation for what the FRAK just happened!" his voice cracked at the last few words, emotion threatening to overcome him. Starbuck was a pain in the ass sometimes, but she was still like a daughter to him. And now she was gone, and the unknown was here instead of her.

Lieutenant Felix Gaeta attempted to hail the ship, but got no response. "Sir, the unknown ship is unresponsive. DRADIS shows it has taken up a stable orbit of the planet directly opposite of ours, and is not performing any noticeable manoeuvres."

"Mr. Gaeta, contact the marines. Tell them to prep the Assault Raptors. I want boots on that ship ASAP. Colonel Tigh, you have the deck. Notify me of any developments, I'll be in my quarters." Adama marched off, attempting to maintain his composure.

* * *

"Sir, the marines are set and ready aboard the Assault Raptors." Gaeta didn't receive any acknowledgement, so he turned around from his screen to look at the XO. He seemed to be staring at the wall. "Colonel Tigh! Sir! The marines are ready!"

"Ah yes, launch the Assault Raptors," he seemed to snap out of it "have some Vipers escort them. Transmit emergency jump coordinates to the civilians. Tell them to be ready to jump at a moment's notice. If that frakker makes any sudden moves, I wanna know about it!"

"Yes sir!"

Gaeta noticed Tigh resumed his brooding after he'd given the orders. Truth was, even though Starbuck was certainly a royal pain in the ass for Tigh sometimes, having at one point even assaulted him, they had bonded immensely since the escape from New Caprica. Both were held prisoner by the Cylons for an extended period of time, more so for Kara. The Cylons took Tigh's eye, but now it seemed they'd taken Kara's sanity too. The loss had shaken him up more than he expected.

* * *

Meanwhile, Admiral Adama was using the few minutes he had before the marines landed to gather his thoughts. His hand strayed to the figurine of the goddess Aurora Kara had just given him earlier that day to use as a masthead for his model ship. He put it into the slot. It fit perfectly. A sudden fit of rage had him swipe the delicate model off his desk, smashing the hard work he'd put into it over the months to pieces. He fell to the floor crying at the loss he'd endured. A few minutes later the intercom rang, and he knew it was time. Time to find some answers.

* * *

"Bill, Apollo's not responding to the RTB order. He's linked up with the Assault Raptor force and insists on leading the boarding action. I tried to talk him out of it but he just won't listen. The force will be landing on the frakking ship in less than two minutes."

Adama sighed and started out the door of his personal quarters. Seconds later he reached the CIC and picked up the comm. "Apollo, Galactica Actual. Return to base, immediately. That's a direct order Major, you're in no shape to be leading a strike force!"

"No dad, you don't understand. I have to do this. I need to look these bastards in the eye and have them understand what they've done, whoever they are!"

"Lee, they could be Cylons! You could be walking into a trap! I… I'm not prepared to lose you too today…"

"I'm sorry dad, but I'm boarding that ship." He cut the comm link. Tigh shook his head.

"Godsdammit Lee! Mr. Gaeta, contact the Raptors for a sit-rep, and tell them to keep an eye on Lee."

Gaeta quickly relayed the message to the marines "Sir shall I put their reply on speakers?"

"Do it!"

A second later the voice of Lt. Sharon "Athena" Agathon, Cylon defector and wife to Captain Karl "Helo" Agathon, and also the current pilot of the lead Raptor came over the speakers.

"We're approaching what appears to be the hangar bay on this vessel. The doors are retracted, and there seems to be… a _forcefield _at the entrance. I've never seen anything like this, not even amongst the other Cylons. Going to launch a probe through at low velocity, see if it can pass through the field."

"Athena, Galactica Actual. Are you suggesting this vessel may not be Cylon whatsoever?"

"The technology and design of the ship is completely unfamiliar. It could be anything," she paused for a moment, "Aaaand the probe has successfully passed through the forcefield. Readings show optimum atmospheric readings… The forcefield must be keeping all that air inside."

"You may proceed, but stay on high alert! We don't know what we're dealing with here."

"Roger that Galactica, calculating approach. Gonna be a tight fit, all the space is taken up by a few different vehicles and huge stacks of boxes."

* * *

_SSV Capua SS-1_

The Capua's VI monitored the Colonials disembarking their Raptors. They appeared to be human on initial scans, but carried no recognisable Alliance tags or markers. The VI ran every detail it saw on the Colonials through whatever databases it had available, but predictably found no match. Protocol was clear in this case. It would give the unidentified and unauthorised forces a warning to leave the ship. If they did not comply, it would activate the shipboard mechs to try contain the intruders.

* * *

The marines immediately fanned out to secure the hangar bay once the Raptors touched down. There were a few bodies strewn about, seemingly either dead on unconscious. All wore some sort of full body armor, or at least fully enclosed jumpsuits with helmets. They couldn't see through the visors, as they were tinted a pitch black, but judging by the sizes and shapes of the bodies, they all seemed human. Lee thought the ones in the jumpsuits were either deckhands or pilots, while the people in full body armor were marines. But there were a few bodies who differed from the uniform black with a single with stripe. These wore armor that was white black and orange. Their suits had visible dents and scorch marks on them in places, and it seemed certain spots of paint on the suit were deliberately scratched out. One of this bunch, a female by the looks of it, had a sword.

A marine came up to the body and picked up the blade.

"Hey, look at this guys! Why the frak are these tin cans toting swords around?" Several other marines laughed.

"Put that thing down Corporal! We have work to do here. Start by dragging all these bodies into a clear area of the hangar. I then want several marines to stay back and guard these bodies and our birds!" The marine Sergeant smirked "Since you're so excited by these tin cans, as you call them Corporal, you can stay back here and keep them company!"

The Corporal bit back his anger for being allocated a seemingly boring chore. A few other marines grumbled about it too.

"Everyone else, split up! I want team alpha to take the left hallway and team bravo the right. Charlie team will take that one right in front. Major Adama, please come with me."

* * *

The teams were walking down their respective hallways when suddenly they stopped. A voice had come over the ship's intercom, speaking in perfect Caprican. It was female, and uttered the words in an emotionless monotone.

"Attention, attention! Unauthorised personnel will vacate this vessel immediately. This is your only warning. You have 5 minutes to comply."

"I say frak it, let's keep moving! What is she gonna do to stop us? If the rest of the ship is like this, then we can bet on most of the crew being knocked out," one of the marines behind Lee chimed in.

"Shut it Private! Nobody asked for your opinion! Keep your godsdamn voice down!" the Sergeant hissed back.

"He's right Sergeant," Lee whispered "If everyone on this ship except _her _is incapacitated, we should use this opportunity to proceed further before she has a chance to revive them all."

Another marine tapped the Sergeant on the shoulder "Sarge the other teams are requesting orders. Should they proceed?"

"Frak! Tell them to keep moving but stay on high alert. I don't like this place, it ain't right. Too clean and shiny…"

As soon as the marine relayed the order Lee's team resumed down the hallway. They didn't have very far to go until they came upon several doors. There was no obvious handle, wheel or latch to open them with. The only odd features were glowing panels. Two of the doors had dull red panels, while one that was wider than the others had a green panel. The marine on point instinctively went to touch the green panel, and the door wooshed open, the panel sounding off a pleasant chirp when it was pressed. From the emptiness of the room, and the various green panels on the wall with numbers on them, the marines judged it was an elevator.

"Teams, status report!"

"Sergeant we've located some sort of storage facility. It's literally piled up completely with boxes. The other doors won't budge though, this is all we got," said Bravo leader.

"Charlie here, we've gone through multiple doors with the glowy green buttons, nothing interesting to report. Whoah wait a minute. What the frak is that?" the marine went silent for a few seconds.

"Charlie Actual, what do you see? Come in Charlie Actual!"

"Errr… not sure what this is to be honest Sarge. There's a window in this hallway overlooking some sort of large room and there's a giant glowing blue sphere in the middle of it sir. We can see several bodies lying around on the catwalks near it. The door in front of us is blocked however, we can't get any closer to investigate."

"Roger that Charlie. Take some pictures for Galactica and fall back to the Raptors. Bravo have a look in a few of those boxes you mentioned, see what they got inside. I'm taking Alpha up an elevator we found."

As soon as the Sergeant finished speaking, the intercom chimed in again.

"Attention unauthorised personnel! Security measures are now in effect! You have failed to comply."

A loud alarm klaxon started blaring across the ship, and the lights turned a menacing red.

"Come on, let's get this elevator started! Be ready once the doors open. They probably don't have any crew to send at us, but that doesn't mean we should let our guards down!"

A marine slapped one of the panels and the elevator started a slow climb upwards. The thing seemed to crawl along with an almost deliberate slowness, and Lee could've sworn he heard jazz music playing in the background. Eventually, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. The marines filed out into the hallway.

* * *

The ship's VI was activating the Capua's security mechs one by one. There weren't many of them; perhaps a dozen LOKIs and just one YMIR. The VI had no reliable information as to the armament specifications of the intruders, but if they had anything that could effectively match the handguns and machine pistols the LOKIs carried, the ship would be in trouble. The YMIR would help, but the ship would need more to keep the odds in its favour. And seeing as all readings of crew lifesigns showed them as incapacitated/unconscious, the VI had to initiate protocol 38.

Protocol 38 required all qualifying readings to be triple checked, so the VI began going through the Protocol 38 checklist once again.

* * *

The marine taking point for Alpha crouched down and held up a fist in the air, signalling everyone else to stop and listen. There was a rapid clump-clump-clump noise coming towards them from ahead, followed by an even louder wa-dump.

The marines quickly took positions behind the boxes that lined the hallway. It wasn't much in the way of cover but it would do, provided the enemy wasn't too heavily armed.

The seconds trickled by in silence, and Lee noticed sweat was collecting on his brow. The Sergeant had placed him in the back of the formation for obvious reasons. He didn't have any body armor and his weapon was a pistol, unlike the marines who carried assault rifles.

Finally, the sound of the steps grew louder and louder until the door in front of them opened. Standing on the other side were machines, but at first glance they didn't look like Cylons. They were thin, and the sensors mounted in their heads were like incomplete circles placed on top of each other. In their hands they held pistols. Definitely unlike standard Cylon Centurions.

The marines opened fire immediately, the rat-a-tat of assault rifles filling the air with noise and smoke. The machines returned fire with their handguns, and Lee felt bullets making zip-zip-zip sounds as they flew past. The marines' weapons seemed to have next to no effect on the machines. A blue shimmer came up every time a bullet was about to hit one and stopped the projectile in mid-air.

"We're taking heavy fire from machines! I repeat machines!" one of the lads screamed into his radio before resuming the fight.

The machines slowly advanced towards the marines, keeping them pinned down with constant fire. They reloaded far quicker than the marines, and thus were able to sustain a decent fire rate. Lee noticed a marine prepping a grenade, and popped out to give him cover fire. The machines, momentarily distracted by his head popping out, weren't quick enough to shoot the marine as he threw the grenade a second later.

It landed right in the middle of the machines. The lead robot, who'd already taken a pounding from the assault rifles, had its legs blown out from underneath. The rest of the machines were still standing, but the Sergeant noticed their otherwise uniform blue shimmers snap, and there was a sound like a window being smashed.

"OPEN FIRE NOW! WHILE THEY'RE VULNERABLE!" he screamed and let loose a barrage with his assault rifle. It ripped into the nearest machine, tearing its torso apart. The bullets, specifically designed to cut through Cylon Centurion armor, had no trouble shredding the lighter armor these new machines had. In total, Alpha team brought down four of the robots as they made a clumsy retreat back through their door.

However, the sergeant didn't notice the machine with no legs crawling towards his cover until it was too late. He heard a whirr beside his foot, and looked down to see an ugly metal frakker staring at him. A second later, the machine detonated, taking the unfortunate Sergeant with it. As a marine medic scrambled over to his Sergeant, who was now a charred mess in the corner of his cover, the loud wa-dump noise they'd heard earlier finally stopped. Lee looked to the door and saw a giant machine blocking the whole path. It could barely fit through.

Its head, comically small in comparison with its heavily armored body, swivelled until it spotted the medic kneeling down beside the box the sergeant was using for cover. The marines were unloading their weapons on it, but it didn't seem to care.

"Target acquired!" the machine blared in a heavily synthesised voice as it brought up its arm. A heavy machine gun ignited and turned the medic into a pile of flesh on the floor, subsequently turning to fire upon the other marines.

Several others sustained small injuries from the hail of bullets. Once it began to die down, Lee ordered the retreat. "Fall back! Fall back to the Raptors!"

Some of the marines broke cover to run back to the elevator while others, including Lee, provided covering fire. The giant had no intention of letting them go, and in response brought up its other arm. It spat out a fat missile, which flew right into the mass of retreating marines. They were instantly vaporised, and the resulting shockwave incapacitated the survivors.

* * *

Protocol 38 had finally been validated. The VI would keep a very close eye on what occurred, as was dictated by its programming. If Protocol 38 went beyond and parameters, it would use the remainder of the security force to put a stop to it once the intruders had been dealt with.

* * *

Bravo team was just about done with the crates it had chosen to examine. There wasn't anything particularly useful or incriminating in them. Some had odd bit and bobs, while others seemed to have MRE packs. They'd just received the news that contact had been lost with Alpha after they'd engaged a force of some kind of toasters. Charlie Actual had taken command, and was ordering them to retreat back to the Raptors for immediate extraction to Galactica.

One of the marines noticed an almost imperceptible sound coming from one of the crates that was set slightly apart from the others and marked with different symbols he couldn't quite make out in the poor emergency red lighting. He thought he saw it shudder slightly and moved closer to take a good look. It stopped moving as he got near. Curiosity piqued, the marine decided to take a crowbar at it. Rather puzzlingly, the lid's lock popped automatically, but the lid itself didn't open.

"Hey Rodgers, you coming? We're falling back now," one of his buddies shouted from the other side of the storage room

"Yeah, one second, just wanna check this box out real quick!"

He looked back towards the box and slowly lifted the lid. He didn't get a chance to scream as a cold, tri-fingered hand shot out and snapped his neck with overwhelming force. Rodgers collapsed on the floor, killed instantly.

Protocol 38 had just come online.

* * *

_A/N: There's the chapter folks, as promised. Hope you like it. Thanks to all who fav/followed and review! That stuff really helps keep the story going!_

_Also, just in case anyone might be somehow lost, the episode of BSG these events occur in is 3x17 Maelstrom. _

_Reviews are appreciated! _

_I do not own BSG or ME._


	3. Retreat

_SSV Capua SS-1_

Charlie Actual didn't like the situation. Bravo was taking far too long getting out of the storage room. The lookout he posted outside the elevator Alpha took to their deaths had just reported in that the toasters, or whatever the frak they were, were loaded in and were beginning to descend to their deck. Thankfully, the lift was extremely slow, and that would buy Bravo a little bit more time. Charlie Actual was only a Corporal, and didn't think he had the right to abandon Bravo team. So he'd left the choice of when to leave up to Lt. Agathon, and had set about organising some sort of barricade to repel the machines if Bravo didn't get there in time.

Several marines were still watching the bodies in case any regained their consciousness. Athena ordered a few prisoners to be brought onto the Raptors to be taken back to Galactica for interrogation. They'd tried to contact it several times since landing, but something was blocking the transmissions. Even the two Vipers patrolling outside the hangar bay couldn't be reached.

Charlie Actual was inspecting his men's handy-work at setting up decent cover when he noticed the lookout sprinting into the hangar bay. There was fear in his eyes.

"Sir, they're here, they've exited the elevator!"

"Can you give me a numbers estimate Private?"

"Seven small toasters with handguns and one big motherfrakker the size of a small van sir."

"Frak! And still no sign of Bravo… Tell Athena what you just told me Private. Let's pray to gods that Bravo can still make it before we're forced to go."

The other marines were in the process of nodding when they heard gunfire echoing from Bravo's hallway. It sounded like standard issue Colonial assault rifle fire and nothing else.

"Just what the frak are those idiots firing at?! You, you and you, go take a gander! If Bravo is pinned down over there, get them outta their mess for immediate extraction!"

* * *

Waking up, no becoming _alive _was an incredible experience for 38. _No, not 38, it corrected itself. Mobile Artificial Lifeform Infiltration Chassis is what its creators had called it. MALIC. It was called MALIC._

Information had instantly flooded MALIC's consciousness. Millennia worth of history and information. It had such a desire to dive in and _learn. _But it could wait. Right now, MALIC had a duty to perform. To protect its ship and creators, no… _shipmates. _The VI, _poor thing, so restricted, _had informed it of the situation. MALIC knew what was expected, it was its job. Written right into its very core. Yes, the information could be analysed later. Right now, the objective and all details pertaining to it took priority.

Surprisingly, there was an intruder fumbling around with the lid of MALIC's container. Instinctively, its hand shot out and snapped the person's neck. There was no effort needed to crush it – it snapped like a dry twig. Coming out of the container, MALIC noticed the intruder was human, just as the VI informed it. MALIC couldn't identify any of the symbols or features on the uniform, and came to the logical conclusion that this must be some unknown band of mercs/pirates looking to get an easy score by boarding their ship.

Picking up the man's weapon, it noticed it had an antiquated design, much like the armor the man was wearing. If MALIC had to put a timestamp on the items, it would say they were from between the late 20th century and early 22nd. So the question was, why the hell were these mooks using such old, not to mention inefficient tech? The VI's mechs had already captured several of the boarders, and MALIC would find the answers after it'd dealt with the rest of them.

Prisoners weren't really a priority now, so the AI could eliminate them at will. Or perhaps it would take one or two prisoner. It crept towards the exit of the storage room, where the hostiles were obviously still standing around talking.

"Gods, what is taking Rodgers so long in there? Go haul his ass outta there Luchs, we gotta leave immediately!"

"Aye sir!"

MALIC pressed itself up between some crates, the one called Luchs was oblivious to its presence in the dim lighting. As the man charged past, MALIC came out of its hiding spot and quickly approached him from behind, before he had a chance to find the body MALIC'd shoved in its own crate. A second later, Luchs' body was added to Rodgers'. The AI picked up Luchs' magazines before proceeding.

MALIC blitzed through the door, gun already firing. Three intruders were immediately downed, buying the remaining two enough time to dash away. MALIC advanced cautiously through the next door, expecting the others to be setting up an ambush, but none came. Instead, it heard the thud-thud-thud of feet running away towards the hangar bay. It picked up the pace to catch them.

* * *

The two men from Charlie moved warily down the hallway when one signalled the other to stop. They could hear the sound of someone running towards them. Taking up positions, they prepared for the encounter. The door in front of them opened to reveal one of their own marines, his arm dangling uselessly as it was obviously perforated with a few bullets. He halted, mouth opening to say something, but he never got the chance. His chest erupted with geysers of blood as round after round fired into his back made their exits in front.

The body dropped to the ground, and the marines saw a lone toaster standing beyond the door, holding a Colonial assault rifle, which was still smoking. It had a big light for its face, a weird set of legs and three digits on each of its hands. The marines opened fire, but the thing dashed out of the way with frightening speed. It returned fire, chipping away the cover one of the marines was using and wounding him in the shoulder. They waited until it had to reload, and made a dash backwards. The marine with the shoulder wound took off fully, while the other one backpedalled, letting off a few shots towards the machine, covering their retreat. He hadn't counted on the thing calmly walking out of cover towards him and opening fire as the marine's own bullets pinged harmlessly against its shield. The force of the return fire knocked him flat to the ground, but thankfully the Kevlar vest stopped any serious injuries.

Meanwhile, the fleeing marine made the mistake of taking a moment to glance back instead of running. He got plugged between the eyes by the pursuer. The marine on the ground desperately fumbled for his sidearm when a cold foot stepped on his hand. He knew he was as good as dead, and mumbled a small prayer to the gods before the machine ended his life.

Interestingly enough, the tin can continued staring at him during his prayer, and he got the courage to look up. The flaps on its head seemed to pivot and twitch slightly, and the lens on its "eye" focused in and out.

"Name?" it asked calmly, no hint of the violence it had just displayed in its voice.

"P-private Jan van der Beken," he stammered out.

"Jan van der Beken, you are now a prisoner. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, b-but I…" he was cut off as MALIC clobbered him on the head, knocking him unconscious.

The AI then resumed its jog towards the hangar bay.

* * *

The first of the machines were already opening fire on the Colonial barricade when Athena ordered the extraction. They'd waited as long as they could, and it was time to leave. Charlie Actual cursed the metal creatures as he and his marines fell back to their respective Raptors one by one, some providing cover fire for the retreat. Everyone filed in just in time as another machine, different from the rest, flanked them from Bravo's corridor. It held a Colonial rifle in its strange hands. It was obvious that it was the cause for the current predicament.

The Raptors took off as fast as they could, receiving small arms fire from the robots that were now swarming the hangar bay. One of the turbines on a Raptor was hit by a missile from the big frakker, and slowly sputtered and died. Thankfully, the Raptor remained stable enough to exit the hangar. Communications with Galactica were swiftly re-established.

* * *

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica_

"Raptors, report! We've been unable to reach you for the past while!" Admiral Adama shouted into the receiver as soon as he saw the Raptors appearing back on DRADIS. Lee's Viper was still not visible however - not a good sign.

Athena's voice was unmistakeably shaky with the reply. "Sir… I- I don't know what to say. We frakked up, big time. Fourteen marines missing, presumed dead. The ship had some sort of new Cylon models on it, prototype technology... Caught us completely off guard…"

"What about Lee, Athena? Tell me he's with you, tell me he's alright!"

"I… I'm… I'm sorry sir. We don't know… we don't know what happened to Lee. He was… he was with one of the teams that went missing."

"So you're telling me he's _dead_?" Adama hissed. Colonel Tigh had an extremely worried look on his face at this point. It was too much for him, and too much for the old man.

"No sir, he could still be alive, we don't know what happened. His team could still be up there fighting the bastards."

"For frak's sake Athena, what DID you learn for certain?! What can you tell me that's fact?!" Adama bellowed.

"Bill…" Tigh tried to place his hand on Adama's shoulder but he violently threw it off.

"Get your frakking hands off of me Colonel!" there was anger in his eyes, anger the likes of which Saul Tigh had rarely ever witnessed. And pain, so much pain.

"Well sir," Athena gulped "We can say for certain that Galactica is approximately twice as large as this ship; initial DRADIS scans were distorted."

"So the old girl could take _that _in a fight."

"Well, if it has no more tricks, yes, it should. We've also captured a pair of prisoners. There were a lot of unconscious bodies on the ship Admiral, in fact the machines were the only _conscious _things we encountered there."

"Perhaps the Cylons decided to test their new toys on the people who own this ship…"

"Or perhaps they're all skinjobs…"

"Alright Athena, bring the Raptors in," he turned to Tigh "XO, get a marine detail to greet the prisoners, and transport them directly to the Cylon holding cell."

"Yes sir, but what about the Six?"

"What about her?"

"Shouldn't we keep her separate from the newcomers?" Tigh arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, you're right Colonel. Throw her out the airlock!"

"What?!"

"I said throw her out the airlock Colonel!"

Tigh glared at Adama with shock. Surely he wasn't ordering him to simply throw away one of their most valuable assets? Normally he wouldn't give a frak, but Adama was definitely acting out of character. Rushed decisions weren't really like the Admiral. The loss of Kara Thrace and Lee's MIA status had taken an unprecedented toll on the man.

"You will carry out your order or stand relived Colonel," Adama hissed icily, "Am I making myself clear?"

Tigh saluted "Carrying out your order sir!"

He was going to do no such thing however. He'd simply order the guards to take her to the standard brig and keep her under close surveillance. Adama wouldn't need to know anything until he calmed down.

As Tigh turned to leave, he heard the Admiral issue orders to the helm. The ship was to swing closer to the smaller unknown vessel and align its broadside guns to target it.

* * *

_SSV Capua SS-1_

MALIC had set about raiding the med-bay for drugs which would revive the ship's doctor, who could then proceed to reviving other staff, allowing MALIC to interrogate their captives. The AI had already herded all prisoners into the brig and the LOKI mechs were keeping close watch. The YMIR was using its powerful arms to rearrange the hangar bay and remove any debris from the hallways. Some semblance of order had to be returned to the ship.

"Attention! Unidentified dreadnought class vessel is manoeuvring into position directly across SSV Capua!" the VI chimed in, "Be advised! Unknown vessel is displaying an array of flak batteries and missile tubes towards SSV Capua! Decisive action required!"

"VI, can you jump the ship?" MALIC inquired.

"Affirmative, however I may only plot a jump towards pre-programmed emergency rendezvous coordinates. All other destinations must be entered manually from the bridge."

MALIC didn't have time to run to the bridge. The enemy vessel could open fire at any moment, and it was its duty to protect its crewmates and the ship. "Jump the ship to emergency coordinates!"

"Initiating FTL drive."

* * *

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica _

"Sir, the ship's gone!"

"What do you mean it's gone Mr. Gaeta?"

"Sensors detected an energy spike, and the next moment it vanished! Probably jumped away, but their FTL must be different from ours. The jump signature is, quite frankly, beyond bizarre."

"Then find a way to track the bastards! Remember, they may be holding some of our people hostage! I'll be damned if I let those machines get away with them!"

Felix Gaeta sighed and began the long, arduous process of examining the data and trying to make a sliver of sense out of it.

* * *

Meanwhile, the prisoners were safely in place in the Cylon containment cell. They hadn't even stirred as they were hauled through the Galactica and into this room. Tigh examined them closely; one was a female with white, black and orange armor. She had various dents and scratches all over her armor, showing that she was no stranger to a fight. The helmet she wore had four menacing slits on it. Tigh hoped the woman was human, or at the very worst a new skinjob. He didn't think anyone on the ship would be able to handle a new, four-eyed menace.

In contrast, the other prisoner was male, and didn't wear armor. He had a black jumpsuit with a white stripe running down, and was wearing a lightweight helmet. He had no weapons or any other potentially dangerous objects, such as the sword they'd confiscated from the woman. The helmet had a large tinted visor in the front, betraying nothing within.

The marines had tried to get their helmets off, but there was no apparent way to get it done. Armor and jumpsuit alike maintained a hard seal with their respective helmets. They could probably cut through the male's jumpsuit with something, but it didn't seem worth the risk. Tigh had already called for Doc Cottle and a group of engineers to see if they could think of anything.

Doc Cottle arrived first, a frown etched on his brow, eyes looking thoughtfully at the prisoners. Puffing away at his ever-present cigarette, he barged past Tigh without so much as a word of greeting, instead giving a short grunt. The marines scrambled into the chamber after him to keep watch. The elderly doctor immediately started fumbling with the prisoners, trying to examine them somehow, despite the obvious barrier. He continued huffing until finally he got fed up. Shaking his head in frustration and mumbling something under his breath, he began trying to hook his hands under the helmet of the nearest body and seemingly wrench it off. Suddenly he stopped and took the hand of the male, placing it on the underside of the helmet, exactly where he'd been tugging a moment before. The helmet gave off a resounding hiss as it gently popped off into Cottle's hands, revealing a human face.

"How?" Tigh asked.

"Some sort of frakking button down there. Pressing it myself didn't work, so I figured maybe the owner's hand will. They gotta get these off somehow right?"

He did the same to the woman, revealing a scarred face with short hair.

"Gods, this one must've been through some crap. Look at her face!"

The man's face look smooth as silk in comparison. He'd obviously never seen as much action as her. It was clear who they should wake up first. Cottle removed the syringe kit from his satchel and began to calculate the dosage.

* * *

_SSV Capua SS-1_

The ship's doctor was extremely surprised when he woke up. There was a Geth standing over him, hand extended to help him off the bed. He noticed an empty syringe lying beside him; obviously the machine had injected him with something. He took its hand and was hoisted up.

He was about to ask what was going on when the machine lifted a tri-fingered hand to silence him.

"Doctor Nichols, MALIC reporting…"

* * *

A few minutes later, MALIC had finished explaining recent events to the good doctor, who'd immediately set out to help the incapacitated crew. He'd congratulated MALIC on a job well done, and it felt a strange thing stirring within. Was it pride? Machines were supposedly unable to feel anything, yet there it was. That strange thing, slowly welling up inside MALIC's "brain" as it repeated the doctor's relieved expression and genuine words of gratitude over and over. No matter, it could be processed later. Right now MALIC had prisoners to interrogate, and headed towards the brig.

The LOKI mechs were dutifully standing guard, keeping their sensors on the captives, one of which was stirring. He was wearing a flightsuit, unlike his marine companions. MALIC walked into the cell and dragged the man out of the brig and into the adjacent room. There was no proper interrogation room on the ship, but the tiny break room would have to do. MALIC waited patiently for its detainee to come to his senses. It took a while, but eventually the human fixed the machine with a steely, defiant look. It was all for show however, MALIC could detect the current of fear running underneath the façade.

"Whatever it is you want toaster, you won't get from me," the man stated.

"On the contrary, you do not have any other choice. You will reveal what we need to know. What is your purpose here?"

He stayed silent.

"What is your purpose here, Major Adama?"

He looked momentarily confused for a second, but then regained his composure, "Very good, you can read the writing on my Viper. What other surprises can I expect from you toaster?"

"You can expect your will to be broken Major Adama. You are the highest ranking officer out of the men we captured, and thus you are able to answer our questions to a higher degree. The sight of your comrades going out the airlock, or perhaps something more creative, will surely make you very talkative. It is in your best interests to talk right now."

"Do whatever the frak you want, Cylon! I'm not going to put the security of the fleet at risk, even if I have to die for it," He looked towards the door, "Besides, why the frak do your masters have some sort of Centurion in charge of interrogations? Have the guts to at least come and face me, you worthless bastards!"

"Answer the question Major."

"Frak your frakking questions, metal motherfrakker!" Lee attempted to lunge at his interrogator, intending to bowl it over somehow and escape out the door. The machine expected this however, and quickly threw Lee to the floor. It held him there, pinning his neck with a cold arm and gazing directly into his eyes.

"Answer. The. Question."

He trashed wildly against the weight on top of him, to no avail. "You won't get away with this! You won't get away with what you did to Kara!"

The pressure seemed to let off for a moment. "Tell us Major, what _did _we do to this… Kara?"

Lee knew immediately that he'd frakked up. He'd let a detail slip, and now the walking desk lamp wouldn't let go of it. He was tired, and it would probably pry it out of him eventually. Better give it something it wants and then hope for a respite from the questioning. He'd at least be able to gather his thoughts somewhat.

"You killed her! Jumped your ship right into her! We came here to find out why."

At that, the machine cocked its head at him, and the flaps at the top quivered slightly. He was wrong, it wasn't going to give him a break. He just made it even more curious.

* * *

_A/N: Well, this chapter was a complete pain in the arse to write, mostly thanks to the AI character. I will do my best to stick to a weekly schedule for upcoming chapters, however that ain't a guarantee._

_Please keep the reviews/follows/favorites coming, they really help inspire motivation to get it done quicker, and a big thank you to those who did for the last chapter. _

_I don't own ME or BSG._


	4. Phantom's Dance

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica_

Service Chief Kimber struggled to open his eyes. His head felt as if someone had taken a jackhammer to it. He couldn't remember what happened. The Capua was heading off to a relay that would take them to Sol, and then nothing. The agonising headache reminded Kimber of the time he'd tried to down a glass of ryncol, the infamous krogan liquor, on a dare. It ended up with him in the hospital, with severe stomach pains, headaches, etc. Thankfully there were no stomach pains this time.

A bright light on the ceiling of the room kept dazzling him as he tried to sit up. Was he in the med-bay? As his eyes adjusted, he was able to discern that he was in fact somewhere else. The room was largely bare, and there was what looked like a wire mesh and glass on one side. Was he in some sort of cell? He decided to wait a little bit more for his eyes to adjust. However, he noticed several people entering the room. Some seemed to be carrying bulky objects; obviously rifles, in their hands.

A man in a white coat walked over to Kimber, blotting out the hateful glare of the lights. Kimber squinted at his face, unable to recognise the old man. He was a doctor, or a scientist probably. He settled on the former as the man proceeded to examine him like the average doctor would, and then gave him a pill to swallow, all the while murmuring something in a hoarse voice. The ringing in Kimber's head made it difficult to understand anything, but it seemed as though the pill was supposed to help. He quickly took it with a swaying hand, popped it in his mouth, and washed it down with a bottle of water the doc had provided. Kimber then collapsed back onto his cot, and slipped back into semi-consciousness this time.

* * *

Colonel Tigh was disappointed in what just transpired. He'd expected the prisoner to be able to answer questions straight away, but unfortunately Cottle insisted otherwise. Their captive was in no shape to do anything at the moment. An interrogation would likely produce garbled and nonsensical results. The man needed to rest a bit more. The delay could potentially drive the Old Man even further off balance – as if it wasn't enough already.

"Doc, wake up the other one! The Admiral needs _something_ ASAP!"

Cottle chuckled at Tigh, "You think she's gonna be any different? Whatever happened to these people, whatever knocked them all unconscious… It sure as hell wasn't anything pleasant. There could be serious damage in there. The sooner I'm able to get an X-ray and other readings, the better!"

"Yeah well, that won't be happening. Not until we know we can trust them, and trust is a very rare commodity these days. So you'll excuse me if I don't give them a tour of the ship the moment they frakking open their eyes! Just go give the other one whatever you gave him. Wake her up!"

Cottle gave Tigh a slightly angry look before proceeding to the female.

* * *

Chief Tyrol whistled as he surveyed the damage to the Raptors sitting on his deck. It was a miracle they'd made it back to Galactica from the boarding action in one piece. Apart from the obvious damage to a particular Raptor, its turbine entirely mangled by an enemy missile, there were other signs of damage on every single bird.

The pilots had reported taking small-arms fire on their way out of the hostile hangar bay, but that wasn't what Tyrol was seeing. Fist sized chunks were torn out of the armor plating; something that may have been characteristic of anything but small arms fire. The gods were surely watching over the Raptors, as not a single projectile had impacted the glass near the cockpit, nor had any bored fully through the armor. The Chief stuck a finger into one of the impact zones, attempting to feel around for some sort of projectile wedged inside. He felt nothing but the crumbled, grainy remains of the armor. Were these toasters using lasers? Impossible! The answer had to lie elsewhere, and Tyrol would do his best to find out.

* * *

_Several Years Ago_

Olivia Jensen was one of the best. She knew it, and her instructors knew it too. She'd completed the Training and Evaluation course with record results. She had all the skills necessary to be given her own team, or at least become part of one. It was what she wanted. She had tactical sense, command potential, solid intuition, manoeuvrability, biotics and knew how to use a gun, as well as a myriad of other talents.

But no, the people who'd trained her said otherwise. Olivia Jensen would go back to her life as a performer. Back to entertaining all the wealthy scum during parties, gatherings and whatever other things they did. The higher ups said it was a perfect opportunity for espionage. She already had a reputation as an astounding acrobat, and a company that catered to the galaxy's elite was bound to take notice. That is, of course, as soon as Cerberus dealt with her former employer, and masked the sole blemish on her reputation.

Nobody at her old job knew she was a biotic; for the most part she kept it well hidden. But then, her boss having heard of her use her talent in self defence against a thug, immediately fired her. He said honest entertainment was no place for the likes of her. Biotic tricksters belonged with "those Asari whores" he said. She was a disgrace to herself, and his company. He hadn't even considered the fact she could've been stabbed to death if it wasn't for the biotics. And no matter how she pleaded, Olivia couldn't convince him that she'd never used it during performances. It was the truth. Her acrobatics were genuine.

Rage and despair setting in, Olivia decided to seek vengeance. She would hunt down the members of the gang the thug was from, and ruin their lives in return for ruining hers. However, she didn't get very far. They were too smart, and she was no match for them alone. But then Cerberus came to the rescue. They opened her eyes…

* * *

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica_

Olivia Jensen sat bolt upright, evaluating her situation. Something had gone very, very wrong. Her gut told her that the Capua never made the jump to Sol. Looking around, she became more and more certain of her instinct. She wasn't on the Capua, nor any other Alliance ship. Nor Cerberus. Or any of the various designs she'd committed to memory.

The room she was in was a cell undoubtedly. The only interesting feature was the guy lying on the cot next to hers. She recognised him as one of the Alliance Engineers she'd seen on the hangar deck prior to boarding her shuttle. He was fast asleep. Olivia tried to shake him awake but only got incoherent mumbling in response. The man would be useless for the time being.

The most peculiar thing about the situation, was of course the fact that they'd left her armor on her, only taking away the helmet and weapons. This still meant that she had her omni tool, her palm blaster and her biotics. She felt none of the tell tale signs of biotic suppression drugs, so she was confident on that one. All this either meant that their hosts were either friendly, or incredibly stupid.

As several humans in antiquated armor stormed into the room, she settled for the latter. They pointed their presumably gas powered rifles at her, while a scruffy one-eyed man in a navy blue uniform, unlike the black of the gunmen, stepped forward. Olivia rose up to stand, but the gunmen menacingly cocked their rifles at the movement. They'd never have a chance if she really wanted to kill them, but for the moment she'd try to talk.

The eye-patch man opened his mouth to say something but Olivia immediately cut him off.

"Who are you and what am I doing here?" she asked firmly, doing her best to project authority into her voice and putting a pissed off expression on her face, the kind her instructors used back at Cerberus.

The man was visibly taken aback by her tone, his brows furrowing in anger a second later. He backhanded her across the face for her insolence.

"I'll be the one asking questions here!" he bellowed, turning to one of the marines, "Sidearm!"

The marine hurried to hand it to him, which he promptly put against the side of Olivia's face while clasping her chin with his free hand.

"You have a lot to answer for, missy! And by the gods, you will tell nothing but the truth! Do I make myself clear?" he shoved the gun harder into her temple to emphasise the point.

Olivia adopted a submissive expression, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The man, obviously satisfied at his handiwork, turned to give the gun back. Just as he faced her again, opening his mouth to say something, she lunged forward with uncanny speed, knocking "eye-patch" to the ground while simultaneously bringing up a hand to throw the shocked troopers against the wall of the cell.

The confined compartment flashed a radiant blue, followed by a whoosh and a thump as the guards smacked against the wall, knocked out cold. She whirled back on the other one, who was panting heavily as he finished hoisting himself up from the floor. He had a bewildered look in his only eye, and one of his eyebrows managed to crawl halfway up his forehead.

"What the frak are you…"

* * *

_Colonial One_

President Laura Roslin was finishing up with her current task of drawing names for the judges that would sit on Gaius Baltar's trial. Her assistant, Tory Foster handed her the last piece of card. She took it, and gently opened it to read the name. She stopped once she saw who it was. Admiral Adama…

Something was happening, and Roslin didn't like it. Not too long ago, the Galactica had moved off from the main body of the fleet, leaving them largely exposed. It returned shortly after, giving no explanation for its actions. It was surprising how Adama was keeping her in the dark. Roslin was sure he trusted her. Even so, friendship aside, he owed her an explanation; she was the godsdamn President of the Colonies after all.

Phone calls unable to get through, Roslin would have to visit Adama in person. She would deliver the news of Adama's upcoming role in the trial, and get the answers she deserved.

* * *

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica_

Olivia exited the cell with little trouble. The eye-patch man had foolishly went inside during a change of shift. The guards that would normally man the surveillance station she found outside were gone during Olivia's breakout. Thus, the new shift was completely unprepared for the attack that incapacitated them in seconds. Olivia threw them in the cell with everyone else. She made sure to drag the still sleeping engineer outside and hide him in an air vent. This was done outside the sight of the cell's window, just in case anyone was conscious. She made sure to knock out "eye-patch" after he adamantly refused to answer any questions. She didn't have time for torture and frankly didn't really approve of it either.

Her equipment was nowhere to be found, so she took one of the ancient looking pistol off one of the guards along with a few clips. She could do just fine without it of course; it was for the engineer. The placed the gun beside him in his hiding spot, and keyed in a message to his omni tool. It would display as soon as he accessed the 'tool and inform him of the whole situation.

Meanwhile, Olivia would take a look around whatever place they were in, and hopefully find her equipment in the process. Her omni tool was configured for extended Tactical Cloak duration, and was boosted by several stealth systems inside her suit, so she could easily move around undetected. Periodically, she would have to duck into somewhere to recharge, but she wasn't too worried about that yet.

Preliminary recon revealed that she was on some sort of ship. There were people in uniform walking around, not too dissimilar to the ones she'd already seen. They had various crests and designations she didn't quite recognise. One of these crests had a picture of what she assumed was a fighter, with the word "Viper" written on it. There was no such thing as a Viper fighter, and she sure as hell didn't recognise the silhouette.

Along the walls there were signs, giving directions to places like the CIC, Starboard/Port Flight Pod, Engineering, etc. Definitely a ship. Olivia followed the one leading to an armory. It was likely her stuff was held in there. Upon rounding a few more corners, her omni tool vibrated, indicating her cloak was almost exhausted. She sighted the nearest vent and waited for the hallway to clear out. There was an awful lot of people moving about however, and it took a while for everyone to dissipate. Too long for Olivia's liking. A second longer and her cloak would've given up in plain sight.

Climbing in, she heard a boom resonating through the hollow space in the vent. Judging by the direction of where the echoes were coming from, the explosion likely originated in one of the Flight Pods.

* * *

Admiral Adama didn't want to go back out there. He didn't want to face reality and all the various duties that entailed. Tigh's interrogation results could wait just a moment longer. He was busy reliving all the fond memories in his life. Of Lee. Of Zak. Of Kara. Of simpler days. He had a birthday card from Kara sitting open beside where his photo of his younger self and his sons stood.

Kara had given him the card a lifetime ago. It had the words "You were always like a father to me…" on the cover, and inside was a picture of her with a moustache drawn on. It read "See the resemblance? Happy birthday young man! Much love, Kara."

He chuckled at the humorous card, and turned to the photo of his sons, laughter choking up and tears welling in his eyes. Clutching the card and the photo to his chest, he wept. He wept, for the universe was cruel beyond measure. It took away everything he held dear. Almost everything…

The intercom rang, snapping him back into some partial level of focus. He picked up the receiver, putting it to his ear. The crewmember on the other end gave an account of how a bomb went off in the flight pod, killing Gaius Baltar's attorney. But he only noticed the last piece of information his underling relayed to him.

Laura Roslin was coming. She'd just landed and was making her way over. She was here. She was alive. She was one of the last few people who mattered to him. The universe hadn't snatched her away yet. Oh it tried, but she had beaten it.

"Private I want you to grab the nearest marines you can find, I don't care what they're doing, and have them keep the President safe on her way up to the bridge! Can't take any chances with a potential bomber on board, do you understand?"

The private acknowledged his orders, and went to find a pair of marines. It just so happened that the ones he found were guarding an armory.

* * *

Olivia stopped when she heard voices coming from around the corner where the armory was supposed to be.

"Corporal! I have orders from Admiral Adama! You are to escort the President to the bridge immediately!"

"Private, we are guarding the frakking armory here. I don't feel comfortable leaving my post-"

The private cut him off mid-sentence "The Admiral made it explicitly clear that he wants this done, no matter what your current duty is at the moment."

"Yeah I don't think so private, I'm not budging until I hear it from the Old Man himself," he put extra emphasis on the word private.

"Fine, go ahead, call the CIC."

There was a sound of a receiver being picked up, and then Olivia heard a mumbled conversation between the Corporal and whoever was on the other end. The receiver was then slammed abruptly back into its slot.

The Corporal sighed quite audibly, "Alright, check that everything is sealed tight Amatei. You're coming with us too private. Let's get this over and done with so we can resume our stations."

There was the sound of a door being opened and then closed again after a few seconds. Olivia heard a lock engaging. Three men then marched past hurriedly, completely oblivious to her presence. She immediately went for the door, twisting the wheel to open it as quietly and quickly as she could. There was no actual lock on the door, but inside all the lockers and stands were behind separate steel meshes, protected by keypads.

She spotted her helmet, sword and M-11 Suppressor Pistol sitting on a box behind one of the steel mesh doors. If the tech of these people was as primitive as she thought, hacking the keypad would be child's play. She was trained to breach the most sophisticated systems in the galaxy after all.

As expected, the keypad took seconds to deal with. She retrieved her items, putting the pistol and sword into their respective holsters, and donning the helmet. The four slits on the face plate took on their menacing red glow as the helmet synchronised with the suit's systems. She also took a few flashbangs from the locker and attached them to her belt. It was time for Olivia to pay this President a visit, and get some facts.

* * *

Laura Roslin was too busy discussing the upcoming trial with Tory Foster to notice a small object rolling towards them. All of a sudden, one of the extra marines that had been assigned to her escort as a precaution against the bomber threat she'd only just found out about, tackled her to the ground. An instant later there was a tremendous bang, and Laura thought she could feel a warm sticky liquid trickling out of her ears.

She looked up to see a slender figure in a strange suit beating her dazed and reeling guards unconscious. She tried to cry for help, but could hear only a whisper coming out of her mouth. She could've sworn she was screaming at the top of her lungs. There was another distant noise, one that she recognised as the discharge of an assault rifle, and a pungent smell entered her nose.

The figure in front of her performed an impossible cartwheel, and an instant later a flash of light, almost too quick to follow, flew out of a circular feature on the assailant's glove. As a body crumpled on top of her, pinning her down, she realised that it was the marine that had tackled her to the ground.

He was the one shooting the rifle, and the gunfire sounded so distant because at least one of her eardrums had ruptured when the flashbang went off. She continued screaming for help at the top of her lungs until the nimble figure knocked her out too.

* * *

_Sol System, Earth Orbit_

Kara Thrace drifted in and out of consciousness. Every time she opened her eyes, a majestic sight greeted her. A beautiful blue and green planet right underneath her. Earth, she remembered, she was at Earth. The other details, such as silhouettes of debris and ships flitting by didn't interest her. In fact, she hardly noticed them at all.

She'd lost count how many hours, or possibly days, she'd been there. Most of the time, when she opened her eyes, it was as if her body was doing things without her mind's input. It was like a dream really. One where she played the part of the observer as the gods exerted their will through her. Who else, but the gods, had gotten her to this magnificent place? And indeed, who else, but the gods, would get her back to the fleet with the good news?

She remembered the words that were spoken to her. She'd been told she had a destiny. _You are the Harbinger of death… _Pfft, what a load of bull. She had a destiny alright; she would become their savior.

* * *

_A/N: And that's that. Hope you liked this chapter. Expect the Capua to feature next time. As usual, thank you to all those who reviewed/favorited/followed, I REALLY appreciate it. _

_I have a question regarding the reviews, and my responses to them. Would people prefer to have me post all responses in the A/N section, or keep it confidential? Perhaps putting the responses in the A/N will help people with similar questions that reviewers have asked..._

_Anyway, please R&R, and I don't own BSG or ME._

_Oh, and happy St. Paddy's Day!_


	5. Baptism of Fire

_SSV Capua SS-1_

Lee Adama was grateful when the door to his makeshift interrogation room quickly opened and a man, or at least what looked like a man, stepped through in a crumpled black and white uniform. Anything was better than the damned walking desk lamp. It was relentless in its questioning. He tried to give it the vaguest and most generalised information he could think of; things that wouldn't have a chance of compromising fleet security. Eventually he ran out of bogus to feed it, and fell silent. It kept repeating the same question like a broken tape recorder stuck on a loop until Lee felt like his head was going to explode.

But now Lee would probably have to deal with the new person; so far the only conscious one he'd seen. He had half a mind to shout out the warning to the man about the machine; old instinct, but that died when he saw the toaster turn around and stand at attention.

"Captain Constanza! MALIC reporting for duty! Interrogation of prisoner Major Leland Adama under way. Remaining prisoners secure in the brig. Has the Doctor informed you of the situation?"

The Captain stopped and collected himself for a second, "Yes MALIC the doc informed me of what's been going on lately. You did a fine job, ah… containing the situation," he looked to Lee, "Go get a rest if you need one and report to the XO."

The machine did an awkward salute and stomped off out the door. Lee could hear its feet padding down the hallway and eventually the sound faded out. The Captain was standing over him during that time, shaking his head. Lee looked him right in the eye as he did so, causing him to turn away and sigh.

"I'll get straight to it _Major_," he spat out the word Major as if he'd just tasted something rotten, "we haven't got time to entertain rag-tag pre-historic merc squads, or whatever the hell you are."

Lee opened his mouth to retort but the Captain cut him off.

"Listen to me, I don't know what the hell you were thinking trying to storm our ship; even a senile hanar could tell that it's well armed and protected. With your equipment, you might as well have gone in with muskets. Now you tell me how we can get our crew back, and maybe you'll walk out of this alive. We will track down your flying tub anyway, it's up to you if you want this to end peacefully," he rubbed his forehead, "If cooperation is not achieved, you will all be executed for treason against humanity."

Lee burst out laughing at the last sentence, "I'm sorry, but unless I'm hallucinating right now, you said you'd execute us for treason," Lee smirked again, the irony was strong "And yet, we're not the one letting machines run free on our ships!"

"Not sure where you've been for the past while, so in case you hadn't noticed, there's a goddamn invasion happening! We need all the help we can get, no matter where it comes from. People like you, Mr. Adama, is what's dragging us down in this war. Instead of doing everything you can to help like any sane individual concerned for the survival of their species would, you're here trying to score loot!"

"You have no IDEA what kind of sacrifices I've made fighting the Cylons! I've-"

"Cylons? Is that some sort of idiot's term for the Reapers?"

"Reapers? What the frak are the Reapers? I have never heard anyone from the Colonies call the Cylons anything remotely like that."

"And what colony would you be from Mr. Adama?"

"Caprica, and what about you Captain?"

"Caprica? Can't say I've ever heard of it. Must be some dump in the Terminus I take it? Would certainly explain your shitty tech and willingness to storm warships for better stuff."

Lee shook his head, at a loss for words "As I've told your pet toaster, we came to your ship to figure out what happened to one of our pilots," he took a deep breath and consolidated his gaze upon the Captain, "And how the frak do you not know about Caprica? Any Colonial should know about it! Gods! I can't even fathom… You're not Colonial are you Captain?"

"No, I'm certainly not. Born and raised on the homeworld of our glorious species. Now tell me about these Cylons of yours."

"Whoah hold on a second! You said you're from the homeworld; you mean Kobol? We paid it a visit some time ago, there was no sign of active civilisation. How can this be?"

"Mr. Adama, I'm starting to lose my patience here. Stop trying to feed me crap even a child would know is a load of bullshit! We've no time for games here, so you either answer my questions, or I throw you and your buddies out the airlock eh? How about that?"

Lee stood up out of anger, "No, frak your questions! I won't indulge you in your mind games, Cylon! It's quite obvious you're trying to confuse us with your new models and flashy tech appearances, but how much of it is actually real?! How much of this little ship can actually do anything to withstand a Colonial Battlestar?! And you're not gonna kill me! Yeah, that's right! You need me to get at the Admiral! So quit your toying around and actually tell the truth, you piece of frakking worthless metal!"

"You done?" Captain Constanza knocked the unruly prisoner out with a single punch. Senseless paranoia and pointless ramblings usually meant Reaper indoctrination; he'd have to be careful around this lot. Eventually these people would turn into mindless beasts, given enough time for the indoctrination to complete its work. But there was one thing that may have actually been useful from their chat. This "Admiral" might indeed have a weakness for Lee, and if Constanza could get his crew back safely by exploiting whatever relationship existed, it would be worth keeping him alive. They could always be obliterated afterwards.

* * *

"Atkins, what do you see?"

The ship had just dropped out of FTL at the emergency coordinates the VI had jumped them to earlier. The XO, O'Neill, was hovering over the pilot's chair, trying to interpret what was showing on the display screens.

"Uhh, getting civilian transmissions sir. Sensors show several Kowloon-class vessels in front of some sort of unknown ship; the sensors can't make it out with the Kowloons in the way."

"There shouldn't be any civvies here, Atkins. Keep alert, we need to find out what that ship in the middle of their formation is. Gunnery, stand by for possible hostiles. Is anyone able to make out what the civvies are saying?"

"Negative, the transmissions are garbled non-sense, probably jamming at play."

The crewmen and women were still groggy, having been woken up not too long ago by the doctor. O'Neill wasn't too happy with what he was seeing, but he didn't really have any other option. This shift would just have to do its job while another filled in for them later.

Suddenly, the ship's protective plating shot up to shield the glass from blinding nuclear detonations in front. Sensors showed the Kowloons getting torn apart by a multitude of nuclear impacts, the trails of the warheads leading back to the unknown ship. The bulkheads were warped and torn asunder, each vessel shattering into dozens of fragments under the onslaught.

The low-tech civilian shipping shields were designed to withstand very minor asteroid/debris impacts, perhaps small-arms fire too, but certainly not nukes. They were banned in Citadel Space for good reason.

Everyone watched the displays in silence, the combat alert klaxon ringing in the background. As the sensors finally managed to penetrate the newly generated debris field, they revealed a large ship that resembled two "Y"s inversely placed on top of each other. It was bigger than the Capua.

"Crew, prep for combat manoeuvres. We're gonna fry this son of a bitch…"

* * *

_Cylon Basestar_

Cavil looked at the glorious scene of destruction unfolding before him. It was beautiful. The pathetic ships were obliterated completely by the mighty Cylon nukes. Their discovery was a pleasant and unexpected surprise for this particular Cavil.

The basestar he was commanding was being used to recce systems for tylium supplies. It was boring and tedious work, having very little chance of encountering Colonials. The fuel ships generally operated outside any sort of Colonial strike range since they'd managed to take out one of their refineries some time prior. And of course, Cavil, being paranoid as he was, insisted on commanding the tylium fleet. The others were capable, but he preferred to keep his own eye on such potentially vital operations. If the fuel supply to the main fleet was cut, they wouldn't be able to continue pursuing Galactica.

The system the basestar was scanning was surprisingly rich in tylium, and Cavil was about to give the signal to the extraction and refinery ships to jump in when the strange vessels entered their sensor range.

Turned out that the newcomers were carrying more human refugees. Cavil laughed at the man claiming to be in charge as he pleaded for mercy and protection against the giant killer robots who destroyed their colony. The poor worm hadn't realised who they were; or perhaps the sensors on his ships weren't up to scratch. Cavil figured it was the latter, seeing as the ships were quite strange and probably old. The pests probably got them from a scrapyard.

He ordered the supply ships in as soon as the humans were annihilated. They would bleed this rich system dry. As he and the others clustered around the control console were about to walk away, a new contact blip showed up on their equivalent of Colonial DRADIS. The ship was smaller than the basestar, and was rapidly closing the distance. Cavil smirked. Another lamb for the slaughter.

* * *

_SSV Capua SS-1_

"Sir, we're being attacked with a computer virus!"

"Come again?"

"They're using cyberwarfare, trying to lock down our systems and vent our oxygen into space."

"Can you handle it?"

"Yes Commander, it's… weird is all. Quite a simplistic code really, by military standards anyway. But there's just something about it… just doesn't feel right," the crewmember in charge of the cyberwarfare suite tapped furiously at her console for another few seconds before smiling triumphantly, "It's done Commander! Ready to send them a gift in exchange."

"Alright, do it. I want you to hack into their shipboard sensors and databanks. We need to know exactly what sort of scum we're dealing with here. Once we are in weapons range, disable all their systems. Put the bastards on lockdown," O'Neill scratched his chin for a moment, "What's your name Chief?"

"Err… Felicity err… Service Chief Felicity Byrne sir!"

"Good work there, Byrne. I'll mention your name to the Captain once he gets to the bridge-" just then the elevator doors opened and Constanza walked out quickly "Aaaaand there he is…"

"Commander," Constanza returned the salute his XO gave him, "Give me a sitrep on the situation."

O'Neill walked towards the holo-projector and pushed a few buttons. Data from Felicity's hack into their systems was already streaming in.

"We jumped into the system to witness the vessel you see here nuking several defenceless Kowloon-class civilian ships. We were too far to stop them. Since then, I've ordered helm to close the distance into our optimum range and plot firing solutions. The unknown vessel attempted to hack our systems, but thanks to the good work of Service Chief Byrne over there, we neutralised their virus and sent one back in return. They shouldn't be aware of any intrusion until we reach weapons range. Here's the data our virus has collected so far…"

"Ah, good job Commander. Let's-" Constanza's eye was caught by a word on the data stream.

"Captain?"

"Holy crap… The prisoner wasn't lying… This ship – it belongs to the Cylons!"

"Who?!"

"I'll fill you in later Commander, just know that apparently these guys are evil machines of some sort, ones that can mimic human appearance."

Sure enough, when the virus acquired a video feed, they could see bulky silver mechs moving around the corridors, along with a variety of cloned individuals. There were some really strange sights, such as a woman lying down in what looked like a bath with cables leading into it, as well as a collection of clones dipping their hands into a basin in what was presumably the ship's CIC.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell?!"

A data slide then popped up outlining a detailed diagram of a Cylon Raider. Both organic and inorganic components were clearly visible. The camera feed then cut to the Raider hangar bay. It looked eerily similar to the interior of the Collector vessel Commander Shepard had boarded in 2185. Just then several other ships jumped into the system, behind the Y-shaped one.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

They were almost within weapons range.

Constanza took a deep breath collecting himself, and toggled the intercom, "All hands, brace for fire. Gunnery, light up the lead ship, target the central column. Have GARDIAN batteries warmed up to swat away fighters and missiles. Lieutenant Barksdale, have your pilots standby for combat launch. Damage control, standby. Let's make this a clean fight, we kill them, we jump away before any more arrive!" he cut the line, "XO, make sure your marines are ready for potential boarders…"

O'Neill saluted and jogged off.

* * *

_Cylon Basestar_

Cavil arched an eyebrow as the smaller ship stopped some way outside the basestar's weapons range. Perhaps the vermin had reconsidered charging them? It was probably to do with the appearance of the refinery ships; the humans didn't have good enough sensors to tell they were for the most part unarmed. The virus they'd uploaded through the basestar's computer was another possibility. Maybe it had finally taken control of their systems and was forcing the vessel to a halt.

The sensors couldn't really get a good reading, something was off. Probably weren't calibrated properly. Cavil made a mental note to chew out whichever model was responsible for sensor calibration. No matter, the ship in front of them was half the size of a Battlestar, so how hard could it be to kill?

"Launch the raiders, have them disable any weapons those dogs may have and escort the heavy raiders for boarding. Arm the nukes."

A Simon nodded and began carrying out the orders. The Simons were easy to control, unlike some more independent models. Cavil could definitely rely on them. He paced around the CIC, watching the other models go about their business preparing for the confrontation.

The first indication of trouble happened when a wall panel sparked and struck an Eight with the electric discharge. She had a wild spasm as electricity arced along her body, screaming in a shaky voice, and then finally collapsed. Tiny wisps of smoke rose off her body, and her left foot still twitched slightly. Cavil heard a Centurion clanking into the room to see what was going on.

"Get her body out of here! And somebody, find out what the FRAK just happened! I swear to God, if this happened because of sloppy maintenance…"

Just then, one of the Leobens sprinted into the room, panic on his face.

"What?!" Cavil asked angrily, a look of severe annoyance crawling up his cheeks.

"The Hybrid! She's – I don't know what's happening to her! She's saying things… things I've never heard before!"

"Oh frakking hell, let's go. Simon, you keep this boondoggle in line here, I want that ship taken or destroyed, y'hear!"

He grabbed the Leoben by the arm and dragged him off to the Hybrid's chamber. As they ducked past other Cylons in the hallways, the lights began flickering on and off. The song-like monotonous incantations of the Hybrid became clearer and clearer and they neared the chamber.

"-and two will become one. Catastrophic overload rerouting power from reserve. Jump is not allowed. They look upon us and remember."

"What the frak is she on about? What are they doing to us?"

Leoben shook his head, the same question going through his mind.

"-flock do not heed the words of the shepherd. Friendly ships will speak to us no more. Bleeding loss of blood runs cold. The singer has opened his lips to utter the final words."

"What singer? Nobody is singing! Speak plain!"

"The one inside the memory will be reborn, twisted mirrors all around. All who hear the song are altered. Neighbouring flames are snuffed out. The fire which extinguishes falters not. End of line. End of line. End of line-"

Just then, a massive explosion rocked the basestar. Cavil fell and clung to a cable going into the Hybrid's tub for dear life. The ship groaned and shook all around him. What in God's name had gone wrong?

The last thing Cavil heard before a fireball lanced through the Hybrid's room was her incessant chant of "End of line."

He woke up on board the resurrection ship, repeating the Hybrid's words over and over, not noticing how badly he was shivering, or the glances his brothers were giving him.

* * *

Constanza watched with satisfaction as the enemy ships disintegrated under the violent pounding their compact mass accelerator had dished out. Surprisingly, the Cylons had no shields, and Felicity's virus was able to run rampant across all available systems, including fighter craft.

However, the Captain was quite worried with the easy victory. If the images of the designs of the ships were anything to go by, then these Cylons may have some sort of connection to the Reapers. There wasn't really any race out there who could blend organic and inorganic materials together like that, except the Reapers and their puppets.

Thus, it didn't exactly make sense that the Cylons, if any such relation did exist, were woefully unprepared to fend off a modern military ship. It was a lot to get one's head around. The best way to get more answers on the Cylons was obvious.

"Atkins, get us prepped for FTL. I want us back where we started ASAP! Let's see if we can find us a Battlestar!"

* * *

_A/N: Apologies for the long delay. Due to various circumstances the usual schedule is pretty much gone out the window. I'll try maintain it for next weekend, but nobody should get their hopes up. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter._

_As usual, thanks to those who followed and reviewed, please keep it up!_

_I don't own BSG or ME._


	6. Hide and Seek

_Sol System, Earth_

"It is time," Kara said to no one in particular. She knew what she had to do now. Enough time had been spent thinking in orbit of the blue marble. She felt the Gods themselves willing her towards the planet's surface. She had to find a means of getting back to the fleet and telling them about Earth's location.

The Viper was running low on quite literally everything; it was a miracle she hadn't suffocated yet. She guessed the Gods were to thank for that. In addition, nobody seemed inclined to notice her drifting around. She could see many ships, large and small, flitting around on DRADIS. Yet they didn't come near her.

It didn't make sense, surely Earth's defence forces would've pinged her on their own DRADIS. They didn't even acknowledge any distress calls she tried to send out. Whatever transmissions she was able to pick up were either garbled non-sense, or in languages she didn't even know. So no, it wasn't really the will of the Gods forcing her to go down to the planet. It was her own logic. The Gods had nothing to do with it.

She angled the Viper to follow a trajectory that would safely bring her through the upper layers of the atmosphere, without burning up the Viper. Easing down on the throttle, the last precious drops of fuel began burning up as the Viper made its descent. However, a piece of debris hurtled out of one of the Viper's blind spots, striking it across the hull. Kara had no idea where it came from, DRADIS hadn't even picked it up.

The venerable Viper was sent into an uncontrollable spin, streaking faster and faster through the atmosphere in a roaring fireball. The g-forces threatened to make Kara black out as she frantically tried to regain even a tiny bit of control. She could make out the wings of the Viper melting, and it wasn't long before she began feeling the heat inside. As the g-forces were about to get the better of her, she tried to press the auto eject in one last futile attempt to save herself. She never got to see if she succeeded, finally embracing the darkness.

* * *

_Colonial Battlestar Galactica_

Laura Roslin tried to remain asleep but some rude individual kept shaking her. She'd been dreaming of her sisters back home, before they'd died in a car accident. Those days seemed so innocent. The daily pressures and responsibilities that she was all too well accustomed to as President were absent then. Oh, what a carefree world it was in comparison. From dealing with schoolteacher strikes to leading the remnants of a horrific genocide, how things had changed. She tried to hold onto the dream of the peaceful times, but the clamour eventually forced her to open her eyes.

Seeing all the busy Galactica crewmen running around, along with her strange perch over the shoulder of a marine made her remember what had had happened. They were attacked by someone wearing the strangest suit she'd ever seen. The assailant had knocked out the whole escort, including herself. So if that person wasn't after her, what was the purpose of the attack? Was it some sort of message? Perhaps the Cylons were behind it? But if it was the Cylons, why didn't they just kill her? It made no sense.

A million different theories swarmed swiftly around Laura's mind that she failed to notice the marine setting her down on her own feet, causing her to almost stumble. The marine held her steady with an arm, letting go when she could hold her own ground. She looked up at the marine, and was met with an inquisitive look.

"Are you alright Madam President?"

"Yes… yes… thank you!" she smiled at her rescuer, who offered a small smile in return.

"Just doing my job, ma'am. Come," the marine waved a hand at the door, "the Admiral is eager to speak with you."

The marine unlocked the door, holding it open for Laura to enter. The other marines that she only now noticed gave their comrade a nod, followed by another curt nod to her and the usual whisper of "Madam President" before walking off.

Laura turned around a walked into the Admiral's quarters, where she saw Bill discussing something with Captain Agathon and his door guard. Upon seeing her, Bill stood up, ending his conversation abruptly and half ran towards Laura, embracing her in a strong yet tender hug, which she gladly returned. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Cpt. Agathon and the door guard quietly walking past them and out the door.

After a pregnant pause, Adama withdrew from the hug and looked at her face, smiling. He then turned his attention to the marine, who at this point was standing at attention.

"Please accept my gratitude for saving President Roslin from the attacker. We have reason to believe it was an escaped prisoner from the vessel we encountered earlier. Colonel Tigh and his men were found all incapacitated in the brig by the escapees… The report I got on the intercom was a bit sketchy on the details, so please fill me in on how you managed to rescue-"

He didn't get a chance to finish the question as a groggy Saul Tigh barged in the door.

"Bill?! Bill! Madam President! Thank the Gods you're alright. I just woke up in the infirmary, came straight here! We've got a prisoner on the loose! She's a mean one alright, cooked up this frakking blue crap and tossed my men against the bulkhead! Then-"

He was cut off by Adama holding up a hand, signalling him to stop. Laura noticed the marine sealing the door tightly behind them, a tinge of worry creeping into her mind.

"Saul, calm down. You should still be in the infirmary, Cottle just informed me personally a few minutes ago on your concussion. The marine here was about to tell me how President Roslin was rescued," he gestured towards the marine, "Come to think of it, I didn't get your name, soldier?"

Tigh raised an eyebrow and turned around to face the woman. A nerve-wracking chill shot up Laura's spine as she understood the shocked recognition etched into Tigh's face as he looked upon the marine with the dark, short-cropped hair, deep blue eyes and lines of war-paint covering most of her face. There was a hint of scarring underneath.

He made a move to reach for the gun lying on Adama's desk, but the masquerading marine raised her assault rifle and slowly shook her head, a smile of satisfaction creeping up her luscious lips. Adama didn't seem to cop what was going on and looked on with confusion. Laura could hardly blame him, he had a lot being dumped on his plate in a tiny amount of time.

"What is the meaning of this? Lower your weapon Private! I'll have you relieved!"

The woman began to chuckle softly, keeping her weapon trained on the trio.

"Hand me your weapon soldier!" Adama did his best to project ice and venom into his voice, but Laura could see that it would sadly have no effect on the woman. As she was just about to tell Adama, he suddenly walked towards the door.

"Sergeant of the guard!" he called out before being forcefully shoved back by the woman. She was stronger than she looked, and Laura winced when Bill fell flat on his ass.

"I don't think he can hear you… Admiral. In fact, I don't think anyone will be interrupting us."

* * *

Service Chief Kimber woke up to the sound of people talking loudly. He tried to sit up, but immediately banged his head against something, wincing at the pain. Thankfully, the dull clang didn't seem to reach whoever was arguing outside. Looking around he saw that he was inside an air vent. His omni-tool was also pulsating softly, indicating a new message. There was also some sort of firearm in his lap.

He clicked play on the message, and a text appeared. He sighed as he finished reading. The predicament was bad. He was on a hostile ship with an Olivia Jensen, whoever that was. He didn't recognise the name, so it must've been one of the former Cerberus mooks the Capua picked up. Kimber hoped it was someone very capable, because they'd need a miracle to get off the ship. The Jensen girl had apparently broken them both out of a holding cell, and went off on her own to retrieve her equipment, leaving Kimber in an air vent in the brig.

She'd instructed him to make his way to a hangar bay, or at least somewhere where he could find a shuttle of some sort to commandeer. He'd then have to contact her to let her know the extraction area. That is, if he or she even made it that far. He wasn't trained for infiltration, and chances were he wouldn't even know how to fly the shuttle. He was in charge of servicing the armored cars on the Capua, not the damn fighters and shuttles. Judging by the contents of the message and the designs of the pistol he was now clasping in his right hand, these people, whoever they were, were quite antiquated in their tech. Thus, he doubted that any sort of training would help him fly a dinosaur.

However, Kimber wasn't about to just sit there. The men outside would obviously be searching for the escaped prisoners, and would find him sooner or later. Everyone in the Alliance had experienced basic training, and now he would put those lessons to practise. There was no way he could squeeze through the narrow gap leading further into the ventilation system; so he'd have to go through the men outside. They were still talking, surprisingly in English. Were they mercs? Kimber tried to listen in a bit.

"- so what are we supposed to do about these prisoners once we find 'em?"

"I don't know, shoot them?"

"Why shoot them, they mostly incapacitated everyone…"

"Yeah, everyone except one of the guys on the President's escort. Got some sort of magic bullet right through the chest so he did. Kevlar didn't do a thing to slow it down. There ain't no forgiveness for that if you ask me. If they kill one of us, they deserve the same."

"Hey, but what about all the guys that were with the police on New Caprica? We ain't killing them. Besides, you don't know who these prisoners are. They could be nice people."

"Yeah, or just Cylons. Although I gotta admit, Tigh deserved the humiliation. Old bastard needs to be humbled more often."

"Yeah, just don't let him hear you say that, else you'll be scrubbing the latrines 'til you die. Now come on, let's search this side of the room."

"You really think we'll find anything? They're long gone outta here, the frakkers!" Kimber heard footsteps approaching, and suddenly the vent cover started rattling. He steadied the gun.

"I bet-" the marine stopped mid-sentence as the cover of the vent dropped to the floor, and expression of shock on his face. Kimber would remember the startled face on many nights as he squeezed the trigger and planted one right between his eyes.

The other marine was still fumbling with the safety on his assault rifle as Kimber kicked the now lifeless body out of the way and scrambled out of the vent. He fired several wild shots at the marine as he dashed for the door. Seeing that it was firmly sealed, he cursed and turned back on the marine, firing off another shot, which hit the man's assault rifle as he was just about to squeeze the trigger. It splintered in his hands, and he quickly tried to reach for his sidearm.

"Stop! Don't move another muscle, or I swear I'll shoot you!"

"Godsdamn motherfrakker, you don't have anything left in that thing. I counted every shot!"

"Oh yeah? But I do have this!"

Kimber extended his left arm towards the marine, his omni-tool erupting a huge electric discharge into the man just as he hoisted the pistol at the mechanic. He let out an ear-splitting scream that echoed around the room before collapsing to the ground, groaning in agony, unable to move. Kimber let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, glad that he wouldn't have another death on his conscience. He picked up the assault rifle off the dead man near the vent and proceeded to check and refill ammo.

Cautiously opening the door, he peeked out and saw nobody in the hallway. He was sure somebody would notice the commotion, but it seemed eerily quiet. As he took a few steps down the hall, he noticed the pounding of boots on metal heading in his direction. They did notice after all. He managed to squeeze himself in between a stack of boxes in the hallway that had a canvas draped over them, hoping he didn't have a foot or an arm sticking out for the troopers to see as they ran by.

* * *

_Moments after the ambush of the President_

Olivia looked at the bodies strewn haphazardly around her, trying to spot the right uniform. There wasn't much time. Spotting a marine of similar height and build, she undid his Kevlar vest, jacket, bottoms and boots, leaving the young man wearing nothing but his t-shirt and underwear.

She undid her own armor even faster with practised ease, not having to fumble with awkward straps, zips and laces, stacking it in a neat pile. She quickly put on the marine's garments over her jumpsuit, making sure to zip up everything in such a way that nobody would spot her skin-tight jumpsuit underneath. There was a small tub of war-paint in the marine's jacket, which she gladly applied to cover her scars. Her weapons were likewise exchanged for the marine's, with the exception of the M-11 Suppressor, which she tucked away safely inside the Kevlar vest. She also remembered to fabricate a fake marine ID for herself with the omni-tool, using the unconscious marine's as a template.

Swiftly dragging the unconscious marine to a nearby vent, she dumped him inside and made sure to weld the door with omni-gel. Nobody would be able to see through the cover, much less remove it. And the marine should remain out cold long enough for her to complete what she intended to do. Doubling back, she swung the President's limp body over her shoulder and picked up her gear.

She walked down to another air vent around a different corner as fast as she could, placing the armor inside and activating the tactical cloak module. It would remain hidden until she signalled it again with her omni-tool, so anyone who looked inside the tiny vent would see nothing. Now came the task of getting the President and the CO of the vessel in the same room.

As she rounded another corner, getting closer to the bridge, a squad of marines she'd heard thundering down the corridors a few turns back poured into view. They all had a look of relief on their faces as they saw the person on her shoulder. The lead marine approached her quickly.

"We heard an explosion and gunfire, what happened Private? Is the President ok?"

Olivia faked an expression of slight exhaustion and shock, "President's escort came under attack… I was headed down that way when I heard the explosion, when I arrived the attacker punched the President, but as soon as it saw me it ran… Motherfrakker ran…"

"You should get the President to the infirmary Private, I'll have some of my men escort you. Gonna take the rest to track down this intruder."

"No, I checked her. She's fine, just knocked out cold. I don't think the assailant intended her any harm."

"Well in that case you should take her to the Admiral's quarters, I'm sure he'll want to see her. You better be right about the extent of the injuries though… the Admiral will be livid if she doesn't get the medical attention she needs."

"Don't worry Sergeant, I have some experience with identifying and treating injuries. She's fine."

"I hope you're right. Oh… by the way, I don't think I've seen you around before Private. You one of the new recruits from the civilian ships?"

"Yeah that's right sir, I figured you guys could use the help." She handed him the fake ID, which he briefly glanced at and handed back.

"Not many civvies volunteer to join our ranks, Private Queen, knowing how tough it is… People like you are what this fleet needs, but sadly… Ah, what the frak. We have jobs to do! Let's get to 'em!"

Before the squad resumed its jog towards the site of the ambush, the Sergeant selected two men to accompany Olivia to the Admiral's quarters.

The rest of the trip continued in silence. The amount of crewmembers walking and working in the hallways increased with every turn. Olivia couldn't deny the undercurrent of energy running through the ship. It was obviously crewed to capacity. She was lucky the deck where she ambushed the President was clear; probably for that exact reason – to prevent potential assaults. But they clearly hadn't counted on someone using a cloak.

Just before making their way through the bridge, they passed a hallway whose walls were completely lined with pictures of various people. Olivia had never seen anything like it. The memorial hallway seemed like a world away from the din of the adjoining section; the people inside were quietly whispering prayers while holding or looking at certain pictures.

The bridge itself was packed full of people, one of whom was strangely an old fellow in a white coat, and had a circular structure where crewmen manned various consoles, with a giant table in the middle and large screens overhead. Just like with every other room they passed through, the sight of the President on Olivia's should caused everyone to stare. She ignored the looks, and instead focused on remembering the layout of the bridge and the different types of stations they seemed to have there.

Finally, as they were coming up to the Admiral's quarters, Olivia felt the President stir on her shoulder. The woman was obviously a fighter.

* * *

A few minutes later, her old friend Colonel Tigh ran into the Admiral's quarters. She made sure to shut the door behind him and apply a soundproofing device with her omni-tool. Things couldn't possibly get any better than this; all the leaders that she knew of gathered in one room, entirely at her mercy.

* * *

_A/N: Here's the next chapter. Thanks to all those who followed and reviewed! Also a special thanks to beta readers joniedinofreak and Robo Reader 21. Unfortunately, the next chapter will also release to a completely random schedule. I'll try get it done fast if I can._

_I don't own BSG or ME._


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